


VI

by MCUsic_to_my_ears



Category: 1984 - George Orwell
Genre: Alternate Ending, Big Brother, Newspeak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 08:59:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10941210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MCUsic_to_my_ears/pseuds/MCUsic_to_my_ears
Summary: An alternate ending to George Orwell's classic 1984. It explores what would happen if Winston did actually love Big Brother.





	VI

**Author's Note:**

> This was a school project, so there are page numbers in here. Feel free to ignore them.

Winston turned off the speakwrite at his desk, delighted to follow the rest of his co-workers to the “center of the hall” (12). He sat in the front row, anxious to hear every word that flowed out of the telescreen (236) as the rest of the employees of the upper floors of the Records Department settled around him. Winston checked his watch to find that it was nearly eleven hundred (13). 

Right on time, the telescreen bellowed a harsh, but somehow pleasant, note (13). Winston felt bumps on his arms raise with barely contained anticipation. The image on the screen changed, causing the crowd to settle, but only for a moment. 

Before Winston had been promoted, it had taken the Hate nearly thirty seconds to begin (15), but now, the reactions to Goldstein’s face were immediate (13). The Inner Party consisted only of the most loyal followers and it was nearly laughable that it would take longer than five seconds for the wails of disgust and hate to emerge. 

The rat’s deceits barked out the speakers, filling Winston’s ears with the crimethinkful filth (14). A woman a couple seats to the left of Winston let out a squeak of fear at the heretic’s beady eyes staring down at them. She almost immediately jumped to her feet, beginning to yell if only to drown out the voice of the “renegade” (13). 

The Hate continued, and Winston knew that more and more of his comrades were standing now, vibrating with unnamed, but palpable, emotion. All he heard now were the screams of his co-workers, the traitor’s words completely blacked out. His mouth was moving, but nothing was to be heard. Until, in a brief moment, everyone seemed to take a collective gasp for air and a few of Goldstein’s words filtered into Winston’s ears. 

A vision of  _ the book  _ was conjured up in Winston’s mind as Goldstein cried, “... deserve freedom of speech, of expression, of  _ thought _ !” (14) in that brief torture of silence. It brought into his mind a quote from  _ the book _ itself. “Ingsoc… had the conscious aim of perpetuating  _ un _ freedom…” it divulged (167). 

The thought only made Winston shriek louder in anger, already unconsciously erasing the idiocy of the statement. Of course the Party was spreading unfreedom. Freedom was slavery, but as O’Brien had once observed: “it [was] reversible” (218). 

Although Winston knew that the author of  _ the book _ really was O’Brien and several of his duplicates (215), the beauty of doublethink allowed him to project the unorthodoxy it contained onto the image of Goldstein and the fabricated speech he uttered. It corroded Winston’s resolve to hold back parts of his fury for the “backslider” (13) who betrayed Big Brother and all the purity that he stood for. 

As the howls reached their climax, Winston realized he and the other Inner Party members were evolved. Before, they had been condemning their neighbors, their friends, their spouses. But now, they were tearing down their past selves. The people who had been vaporized from time because they had already been “duped” (15) by the embodiment of betrayal. 

The footage of Goldstein dissolved into that of the Eurasian army marching through the African countryside, north toward Airstrip One, toward the Party. Toward Big Brother. Winston felt his chest constrict with panic (14). Big Brother was in danger, he was going to be hurt by those wicked soldiers! 

His shouts were caught to his throat in fear until an image of Big Brother himself drifted to the front of the screen. Winston was showered in relief, knowing that he was still there, he was still keeping Winston safe. He dropped back into his chair, breathing heavily. He felt exhausted but consoled. Like he could live forever under the care of Big Brother. 

Others around him began to scurry back to their desks, determined to get back to work quickly, and Winston followed them in a daze, stumbling slightly and still out of breath. He worked for a few more hours, until fourteen hundred, when he trudged down happily to the canteen. After dawdling through the line, he ended up at the same table as Syme, who was now in charge of the Newspeak Dictionary team. He was technically Winston’s boss, as Winston was writing a report on Newspeak to send to the leaders of the Party, under Syme’s supervision, of course. They carried on a pleasant conversation, reflecting on the nuances of the comma in Newspeak and how wonderful it was that in 50 years, the entirety of Oceania would only have orthodox words to use. 

When Winston returned from lunch, after bidding Syme goodbye, he played back the first sentence on the speakwrite again. “Newspeak [is] the official language of Oceania and [is being] devised to meet the ideological needs of Ingsoc, or English Socialism” (246). He nodded, glad that he was able to use Oldspeak in such a productive way. He then played the last sentence he had composed.

“Pre-revolutionary literature [can] only be subjected to ideological translation — that is, alteration in sense as well as language” (256). Winston tried to keep from gagging when he read the piece of paper that he’d ordered from the lower levels of the Ministry of Truth earlier that morning. 

“Take for example the well-known passage from the Declaration of Independence,” Winston informed, before reciting the crimethinkful words (256). He shuddered, feeling revolted by the deception the letter contained.  _ The poor people who’d lived before Big Brother had begun to guide Oceania _ , Winston lamented, feeling heavy with grief for those men, mourning their loss. 

_ He  _ had met O’Brien “[in] the place where there is no darkness” (147), and better for it. Those who existed before Big Brother, although it was difficult to conceive such a world, deserved the honor to go to Room 101, to learn that two plus two made five sometimes (239) and that “Oceania was at war with Eurasia: Oceania had always been at war with Eurasia” (236-237). They didn’t love Big Brother yet. They didn’t have the chance to. 

Winston considered himself lucky to know that he loved Big Brother and he always would (245). 


End file.
